Hit the Wall
by Aurora-Borealis Coyote
Summary: Riza sees the truth, but Rebecca wants to push it away.  Ishvalan War-era. Rebecca x Riza.


**I had been wanting to write something of this pairing, and lately I've been totally feeling the Ishvalan War…and Riza during the war as well. Very interesting.**

**D: Poor Riza. And I never really thought of how it would have been for Rebecca until I wrote this.**

**Warnings: Language, intense themes, references to violence, implied sex.**

**Pairing: RebeccaxRiza.**

Rebecca doesn't like the look of any of this one bit. She doesn't have a good feeling at the idea of this war or the phrase "extermination campaign" or the way her commanding officer told her to use her gun whether she needs to or not. Most of all, she doesn't have a good feeling when she sees how Riza looks. But she doesn't let that on. Rebecca Catalina's role doesn't include pointing out what's wrong, and the roles people see us in are the ones we end up taking on. And Rebecca's good at dealing with what gets thrown her way and what she just walks into. When the situation needs her to, she stands up and when the situation needs her to she hits the wall. That's her role, the one who moves along. She's not the hero and she's not the wicked one. She's just there. And some things she can't help.

Not even Riza. Rebecca's known Riza for a long time, since before they were in the academy, and she's always been analytical, reserved, and thoughtful. She knows Riza as well as she knows herself, and this isn't the same Riza. Riza never looked like she does now, gray face with anguish; Riza never looked like she was against the wall; Riza never shook as she pulled the trigger.

But then again, Rebecca thinks, it's useless to think like that. This is Riza now. And if she isn't careful, it'll be her, too.

"Rebecca," (they only use ranks when they need to) Riza says, quieter than normal, and Rebecca pretends she hasn't just thought of drinking that uneasy call out of her memory once the war is done (some of these veterans, Rebecca knows the directions they go in). "I heard something today." She sounds still and metallic. It pulses with an intensity Rebecca doesn't quite recognize as suppressed emotion. "I have the eyes of a murderer now." She says it distantly, but the look in her eyes is the horrid look of helplessness that makes Rebecca think of wounded Ishvalan children, the ones she tries to look away from as they wait to die. Except Riza isn't waiting to die.

Rebecca can tell a part of her is already dead.

And since Rebecca's designated role in this war and in her life and right here with her (shell of a) best friend is moving through and helping to hold up the structure, she makes herself lie. "You're no killer. There's a difference between a killer and what you are." She wishes that could be true. She wishes she didn't need to say these things. (After all, depending on who you ask, there may be a difference between Riza and a killer, but if there isn't, there's no difference between Rebecca and a killer).

"You have them too," Riza blurts. She takes a moment to compose herself as Rebecca gives her a barely visible look of sympathy. "I know, Rebecca. I can see you don't want this to go on, how you don't want to be another weapon on the front line"-(but you are, she doesn't add)- "and you push it away." Rebecca's mouth opens, dismayed at how she can't do anything to work against the forces greater than she is. She knows Riza is right, they're both murderers with licenses and she wants to work up the fight to desert (but she hasn't, has she?). Riza is right, and Rebecca has never seen her in a worse state, and she's making a lot of mistakes but the one thing she's not going to do is just stand by as Riza fades away.

And the question is, Rebecca tries to ignore, is will she be able to prevent that fate for herself?

Rebecca gives up. "You've always known how to see the truth, Riza," she says in an almost monotone. A corner of her mouth pulls itself down, and she closes her eyes so tight she can feel her face move. She can feel Riza's breath as she moves in towards her, she can feel Riza's hand on her shoulder.

It's cold and dusted in sand.

Rebecca wants to hold her, wants to give her support, even love. But then, she knows this is _war_ and she can't go pretending it isn't. No kind gestures are welcome, and if she gives one, she's making it real. She's confirming that this desert world is ending and maybe hers (and Riza's) will to if she isn't careful.

"I know," says Riza.

_Xx_

So it's late at night now. Rebecca and her rifle perch on a boulder, and there's nobody else in sight, as far as Rebecca can tell (this is war, she thinks). She blows a wave of hair out of her eye, muttering "shit," as it falls back over. She can hear crashing. A gunshot.

She wonders (of course, why wouldn't she, now) if it's Riza's gunshot. As soon as this thought comes to her, the image does too- echoing _ you have them too _all around as Riza pulls a trigger, says 'I don't miss my mark', and fades away as some sand blows her off in the wind like she's a ghost. Rebecca swallows hard, tries to believe she doesn't want to be sick, tries to push away both real and imagined images.

She notices her hands are clamped just a bit too tight over the rife. "Damn it." She takes her hands away from the metal, clenching her hand into a fist and wringing her fingernails against her palm, breathing deep as if she has to struggle.

And she stops completely. She's the one who keeps going, she'll come out okay, she won't be a casualty of war or herself.

Right now there's someone she needs to protect.

_Xx_

Rebecca smells ashes and smoke on Riza, but Riza doesn't seem to notice.

"Do you regret any of it?" she asks Rebecca. She only sounds casual but Rebecca can tell that Riza _needs_ an answer even though no is hopeless and yes is helpless. Rebecca still gives the only answer she has. "Yes."

"But, Rebecca, you can't," Riza says. "Nobody made you do this. I walked into this just like you did." Except Riza didn't think she'd be walking into part of herself dying along with hundreds of her own victims (no matter what side of the gun you're on, you still die) and another part (built to survive, built to kill, ashes to ashes) coming alive. She thought she had been prepared. Rebecca moves in closer.

"This is going to be done soon," she says, at least trying to protect Riza, at least trying to calm her own nerves. She's against Riza, arm over her shoulder, hand over Riza's hands (clasped in her lap). All of Riza is still now. Rebecca leans her head, puts it to the side of Riza's face. "No matter what happens, you can count on me." Even if, Rebecca realizes, Riza can take care of herself better than Rebecca can take care of either of them. (Even if Riza needs to count on something more powerful than Rebecca.)

Either way, Rebecca can't leave her like this.

Riza's hands move to Rebecca's hair, her arms are just a bit stiff. "I already could," she tells Rebecca. Some sand blows in the wind and she kisses Rebecca, just barely long enough to count, and as Rebecca's arms move over Riza's back she is frozen for a moment. But that moment's over, and Riza isn't entirely relaxed, but she's better than usual. For a moment there is no war. For a moment Riza does not think of how the next morning, she's not going to want to wake up and Rebecca doesn't think of how the next night she won't be able to sleep.

It's just the two of them, there for each other, even though Rebecca knows it's not the time and Riza does not know if there ever will be a true time of peace.

There is no need for fearing truth as Rebecca lies by Riza and shadows cast over the sand.

_Xx_

Riza's just been informed of the news. The troops are going home, and all has been worked out in the military. 'The war is (not) over'.

She doesn't want a celebration. But there will be, parades and reunions and medals, gather round the war is done, she'll be a _war hero_. And she won't believe any of it. She thinks Rebecca might _want_ to, might want to think if something is still inside you, then you have the power to get rid of it. Riza knows the truth.

That, Riza thinks, is Rebecca's problem. Ideals. She wants a good present but doesn't know what to do with the past. And when you don't know what to do with the past, the future rarely runs smoothly. It's not something she can cure Rebecca of, no matter how much she wants to. It would be nice if Rebecca really could make Riza forget, but Rebecca can't do that, she can't change the truth.

Riza can't either. She can accept that. But she's stuck with the truth.

There's a clamor among the soldiers. Rebecca gives Riza a pained almost-smile. "It's over," she says, not knowing who she's trying to protect (Riza? Ishval? Herself? None are safe). Either way, her words can't help anything.

"Rebecca," Riza says wearily, her eyes are not still (they almost move into Rebecca, closer to her, she wants them to be there for each other but it isn't the time.) "If only you could make that true."


End file.
